"Credick"

We like to take “credick” in my family. And we are not ashamed to openly claim it. Some of us ask for it more than others, but it’s generally accepted that no one is responsible for their own successes and/or accomplishments. Somebody else ALWAYS contributed in some way and they MUST be recognized. Not necessarily a bad thing, but believe me when I say it CAN be overdone.

So, to counteract the possible overemphasis on TAKING credit, I’m trying to teach Day how to GIVE credit (before it’s even asked for). She loves to give credit to her “Bebe” for most of the clothes and shoes she has. She routinely asks, “Who gave me this?” And I answer, ____. She’ll correct me (another commonality in my family) and say, “No, Bebe gave me this. THANK you, Bebe.”

The other night we were coming home from my mom’s house. It was getting dark and there was a beautiful sunset and rising moon. We were all looking at it and talking about how pretty is was. Day said, “Who did that?” I said, “God did that.” She said, “THANK you, God.” Melt my heart… just when I think it can’t get better than that she asks, “Who made me?” So, embracing my teachable moment for all it is worth, I told her, “God made you.”  Instead of the “THANK you, God” that I expected there was silence. She was thinking. Then she corrected me. “No, mommy. The doctor made me.” We fell out laughing. And of course, technically, the doctor deserves his share of the credit. THANK you, Doctor!

THIS is happy.

Easy Subject

makes for pretty pictures...

Props...

...to all the mommas out there who manage to make it look easy - even every once and a while. I don't know if it really IS easy for you or if you are a great faker, but either way... proper respect.

There was a time about two years ago when I lived in a bubble: newborn, no sleep, wonder at it all, ineptitude, lots of crying (both Day and me), etc. Survival mode kicked in, and and all else fell to the side while we adjusted to our new life. One of the things that helped get me through that time was knowing that it was not permanent, that I would sleep again, that I would get better at decoding the cries. And it wasn't, and I did.

Fast forward to the Terrible Twos. SLAM. Here I am again in survival mode. All those feelings of inadequacy and sleep deprivation have returned with a vengeance. "You thought you'd seen the last of me!" they snarl. Although I have not fooled myself into thinking it was going to be easy, I am still surprised to find myself here again. I try to keep it real, and I know (and knew before having a child) that parenthood is a constant struggle. But, DAMN. How do you please a frustrated, strong willed, strong lunged, two year old? This is WAY harder than I imagined.

Before I go any further, let me say that before I became a mother I would hear moms complaining about their children. My silent response was always, ("At least you have a child to complain about. Get a grip. Count your blessings.") I guess as with most life changing events, it was really hard for me to put myself in their place before I was there. Well, here I am. And while I'm disclosing some truths here, I also used to think that moms who weren't able to function optimally at their jobs because of their children were somehow less, not strong enough, lazy (gasp). I'm just being honest. I would roll my eyes at their "excuses". Well, GOD LOVE EM. I have seen the light.

Here are my two current battles: (Yes, 2. In honor of the Terribles.) 

1) This one really isn't new. It has just taken a different form. Shape shifted if you will. Striking a balance between letting her work it out and rescuing her. I realize in most cases rescuing her only perpetuates the cycle of her needing me (or manipulating me) and really, most times it just pisses her off when I try to help. But how do I not interfere when she's driving herself crazy to the point of tears/snot/red face? I feel helpless. And momma guilt is a bitch when I try to let her work it out.

2) What in the HELL is wrong with my child? Really. I go back and forth between thinking she must be sick and thinking she has ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder). I guess either way, something's wrong. Or is it just typical 2 year old behavior? Although I've been around other kids, somehow I still don't think that gives you the whole picture of what their life is like at home. I say this because there are people reading this now thinking,"Why, I'll be! I've never seen that sweet baby girl act like anything but an angel." To you I say, "Can she come stay with you for a few days?"

This morning I remembered a story my mother finds great amusement in telling. One where I (as a child) used to get sent to my room where I would lay at the threshold of the closed door and cry quite dramatically through the crack under the door. Well, not just cry. Also cough and choke, gag like I'm puking. You get the picture. I remember doing it. My entire mission was to somehow destroy the hearts of my already heartless parents who had exiled me. As my cousin says, "Apple. Tree." I love my parents more and more every day for getting through those years.

And I love my child. She's hilarious, brilliant, gorgeous, creative, thoughtful and strong, sassy, and independent. Everything I want her to be. Everything I had wished for her. I just hope I can navigate this journey with some patience and wisdom so that she knows just how great she is and that her mommy loves her more than life. 

Here's my little angel at her 2nd birthday party:

And if that wasn't enough cuteness for you, this should top you off:

Childspeak

We’re walking in the snow, Day in the wagon, when Daddy catches up to us. Ken says, “Hey, Day!”

She says (just as enthusiastically), “I’m in the wagon!”

And here’s what my friend says:

“Sometimes Day says things that make me wonder, Is she really as clever as she seems? Or are we just so grown up that we don’t speak childspeak anymore?”

And a lot of Day’s responses to the world have me wondering the same thing. Mostly, “Where in the world did that come from?” And really wanting to respond to the world the way she does.

That got me thinking. And took me back to another exchange I had with above mentioned Daddy over 13 years ago. He looked to be busy constructing something. I imagined he had a grand scheme of some sort and I spent several minutes wondering what in the world he was doing. I had multiple theories. Finally, I asked. His response: “Jumpin’ on a bucket.” Like, duh.

So simple.

Yet so present.

My natural response is to look for a hidden meaning, some deeper resonance, a connection or insight that somehow I’m just not getting but not for lack of trying. I assume there must be some shared understanding that I’m not a part of and it fuels more questions, a few worries, and insecurities. And I’m always thinking about “what’s next”, and “why”, and “what if”…

Sometimes, if I’m lucky enough to snap out of it, I can step back, relax and see the beauty in NOT looking for those things. Because honestly, sometimes I feel more peace when I’m not searching. And it’s ok not to know. The less I seek my source for some definitive…

So, my hope for the new year is to be more like my husband and daughter. Clever. Observant. Then on to the next thing. Enjoying life along the way.

They were meant for me.

Christmas 2010 Photo Album



greenery creation



homemade goodies for the kids in Day's class



our tree



on top of Day's dresser



happy day



playing with her babies



making cookies for Santa



press it down!




stir it up!




painting cookies for Santa





sneaking a bite







reaching for Santa's cookies



Is Santa MY size, Mommy?



dinner at Maw Maw's house




Aunt Felicia helped me with my presents.




And so she got credit for EVERYTHING I got.





Get it out!




cooking



Hello? Who is it?



Look what Santa brought!




Whoa!

 

Look, Day!




RUNNING to her kitchen




started cooking right away




I wanna COLOR!




A White Christmas




breakfast with her cousin



and her Cacky



Thank you, GG. We've read this book 42 times already!

 

more presents




She is such a good hostess.




doing her ballerina



Daily Stuff

Things that Day says almost daily:

Where’s Daddy? He hunting rack bucks?

I like your hair, Momma. (Variations of this include my eyes, neck, sweater, pony tail, etc.)

God is great, God is good, (mumble mumble) eat the FOOD, A-MEN!

Bless you, Momma. (in response to a sneeze, cough, burp, whatever)

Oh. My. Gosh.

Turn that fan off. (Upon awaking each morning)

I lub you, Momma. (melt me)

I need a hamma (hammer).

I wanna pay [play] sushi, Momma. (Variations: toys, puzzles, baby)

That's DAY'S food, GG. (And DAY'S shirt, chair, etc. Other variations include telling all of the other animals what belongs to her: That's DAY'S hat, Chloe.)

I'm ready to go! (She yelled this at big church during complete silence.)

Put my boop back on. (see below)

And her most frequent phrase: Hold me, Momma!

Things that Day does almost daily:

spontaneous mouth kisses

run run run

“reads” books – must be in a lap with interaction about the content, so far not a solitary reader

“hits” – hits me, hits her daddy, hits herself, hits the air

Goes to time out, where she cries until I ask, “Are you better?” Then we hug and move on.

growls

high fives and fist bumps

plays puzzles and sushi

pulls off her new "boops" [boots]

swims in the bathtub

laughs (fake) when you ask her if she's funny

Songs that Day sings almost daily:

A, B, C, D, E, F, G…

Happy Birfday to You! (Ends with blowing out the candles and yelling YAY!)

Issy Bissy Pider, Upa wada pout (complete with hand motions)

Babies on the bus go Whaa Whaa Whaa

Driver on the bus says Moob on back (big sweeping hand motion)

Wing Awound Wosies, Asha Asha, All fall DOWN!

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, How I wonder what you are, Up a bubba wor so high, diaper diaper in da car

Mother of the Year

I did it. I endangered my child’s life. I neglected her safety, and it could have been bad. It wasn’t intentional, but that has not made me feel any less terrible.

Yesterday after work/school, Day and I both had friends over. Day and her friend were playing while friend’s mom and I were sitting on the back deck, talking (drinking beer). I include that fact because somehow it makes me feel even worse and I need to purge the guilt.

We were both oblivious to where the kids might be but unconcerned because really, “what kind of trouble could they get into?”… when a very panicked, very frightened, very intense neighbor came flying out of my back door (from inside the house) saying, “There are KIDS playing in the STREET!!”

Oh, Shit. MY kid.

I ran out to the front where traffic is stopped going both ways in front of our house because some dumb ass red neck mom let her kid and friend wander around the house unsupervised. (That would be me.) Of course they ended up going out the front door! In my defense (there really is no defense, but I need you to know) we ALWAYS keep the latch locked on our screen door for this very reason. But not this time.

Part of what kept me up all night was replaying the looks of disgust on my neighbor’s faces. Their lack of understanding when I pitifully muttered I’m so sorry. These people don’t know me. But they are forming opinions. Not off to a great start. And it didn’t help that we were on the back deck drinking beer and they were on their way to Wednesday night bible study at the Baptist church. Jesus.

It also is weighing heavily on me that another child could have been hurt at my house. And I take full responsibility for the possibility. It was not my friend’s job to lock my screen door. She assumed her child was safe at my house. I would have assumed the same thing. I DID assume the same thing. You should know that she did not overreact, did not blame me, in fact she spent the next hour trying her best to make me feel better. That’s what a friend does.

But mostly what has tortured me is that my child was in danger BECAUSE OF ME. It is my only job in the world to keep her safe. I do realize that I should be eternally grateful and humbled that she was in fact NOT hurt. And I am. But, I have to be honest. That might have been my initial emotion, but it very quickly turned into shame.

So, again… I apologize to my neighbors and to the world that I endangered my child. And I am so appreciative that they stopped and made sure she was safe. I don’t remember telling them thank you, but I will, in person, the first chance I get. And I can’t promise I’ll ever be Mother of the Year, but I promise that I’ll do better. After all, she is my most precious gift.